


we're solid, we're gold

by Suicix



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Community: 1_million_words, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-06-02 12:14:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6565672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suicix/pseuds/Suicix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>All three of them are champions now.</i>
</p><p>Set post-Smackdown 25th March 2011.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we're solid, we're gold

**Author's Note:**

> Written for One Million Words' 29th March word of the day, "kvell".
> 
> (i didn't even watch in 2011, but the fact that this fic is set over five years ago now is Terrifying.)

The hotel corridors are quiet and empty by the time the three of them get back. Heath is _really_ tempted to break the silence, to yell or to whoop or to _something_ because he’s so happy, so proud that all three of them are champions now, but – well. That wouldn’t be wise. Then again, neither is he, but still. Best not to.

He just keeps a firm grip on both his title belt in one arm and the handle of his suitcase as he and Wade and Justin carry on through the corridor to their room. They’re at the very end of the hallway, and the elevator was goddamn _broken_ so they had to climb the stairs, but eventually, they get there.

The first thing Heath does once the door is open and he’s darted around Wade into the room is sprawl out on the bed, shoes still on. Justin joins him, suitcase left forgotten by the door but the bronze of his title belt with him, too.

Wade doesn’t follow, just looks on with a fond smile.

“Should be getting to bed soon,” he says, unzipping his case and rooting around in it for whatever. “It’s late, and we’ve got a flight to catch tomorrow.”

That’s true, Heath supposes. He is kind of tired, come to think of it.

Three-person night time routines take a while, especially in hotel rooms, especially with Justin, but finally, they’re ready and under the duvet. Heath’s in the middle, always by far the best place to be. (Or, the best until he ends up accidentally kicking Wade in his sleep, and Wade wakes him up to tell him he’s doing it again, but still. It’s still the best.) Wade’s about to reach across to turn out the light, but he’s interrupted.

“Uh, Wade?” Justin sits back up, cocks his head towards Wade, towards the Intercontinental Championship, which is still on the bed. Wade’s got a hand on it as if he’s going to – going to pull it into his chest and like, _hold_ it or something. “You _can_ put your title aside now, y’know.”

Wade looks positively offended at that suggestion. He opens his mouth to answer, probably to retort, but it all clicks in Heath’s head before Wade can say anything, and he sniggers, cutting Wade off.

“You were gonna go to sleep with your title beside you, weren’t you?” he says. “You were gonna sleep with the belt in the bed.” He knows he’s right because Wade is glaring at him, eyes hard.

“I was _not_ ,” says Wade, as if just simply saying it disproves every piece of evidence that was pointing towards that being _exactly_ what he was going to do.

“Yes you _were_ ,” Heath and Justin say in unison, and Wade sighs. He was, and they all know it.

“It ain’t suddenly gonna vanish overnight,” Heath assures him. “You don’t have to hang onto it like you think it will.”

“We’d still love you even if you didn’t win it,” Justin says, his voice soft. “Loved you before.”

“Yeah, I know, and I love you too, I just–” Wade pauses. “It’s my first championship here. Whereas this is the third time for you two.”

“Well. It wouldn’t be the third time for us if it wasn’t for you. You don’t need the belt here to prove anything, if that’s what you think. You got us.”

“Yeah,” Heath agrees. “Don’t need some piece of leather and metal when you got us. Go put it over with ours. It’ll be like – symbolic, or something.”

Wade does as he suggests, getting out of bed to place his championship with the tag team titles that are sitting over on the table. It is kind of symbolic, Heath thinks. Three belts for the three of them. The glimmer of bronze and bronze and now silver with it is the last thing he sees before the light finally goes out – three belts for three champions, two of those champions on either side of him, and the other, amazingly, still unbelievably, himself.


End file.
